


Button

by autumnsnows



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Other, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, a twitter shitpost made more earnest than even i expected, seriously this is a slashfic between you and the automaton you get at lvl 80 mch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnsnows/pseuds/autumnsnows
Summary: The Warrior of Light puts finishing touches on their Queen Automaton, their newest weapon in service to the defense of Eorzea.
Relationships: Warrior of Light / Queen Automaton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Button

You checked the code for what felt like the millionth time, tired eyes scanning through screens upon screens of indecipherable jargon to anyone except yourself. This was your automaton after all; Stephanivien could protest all he liked, but the work of the Talos on the First had inspired you to make the second tool of war no citizen would ever be qualified to arm themselves with. You had successfully armed the masses with weapons they could control, weapons with which to protect themselves against regimes that might seek to disrupt the peace in the years following the Dragonsong War; not least of all the Garleans that seemed constantly knocking on someone’s door, if not walking in entirely uninvited. You were allowed some selfish projects of your own, dammit, especially when your tools of war were being used against actual gods and goddesses. 

  
Figuring that you’d reviewed your programming far past the point of practicality, you did a much less thorough job of examining the automation itself, simply banging your fist a few times against its chassis to ensure no parts popped off from impact. Satisfied, you reached into your pack hooked to your waist. Friends had always joked about it being a fashionable lunchbox, and you felt no need to correct them; after all, an air of mystery and misunderstanding surrounding your work was what had allowed you such freedom of creation. Inside, you pulled out a small, simple box, with naught but a small antenna and a large green button on its surface. You found such theatrical devices charming; it would be no trouble to turn the automaton on through a much smaller and more discreet device, but the satisfaction of pushing a particularly large button and hearing something you created make particularly loud beeping noises was a simple pleasure ill-afforded to someone of your stature.

Backing up - an unnecessary precaution, but one you took regardless - you smiled as your right fist hovered over the button. 

  
“Automaton, engage!” you shouted into the empty workshop as your fist slammed down on the button. Jets of steam hissed from the various exhaust ports on the automaton as the light-blue LEDs of its featureless “face” - an aesthetic touch you’d stolen gleefully from the Allagans whose technology you’d researched so thoroughly - lit up. From its kneeling position, the automaton stood up and turned in your direction. Its heavily synthesized voice filled the room.   
“Automaton Q-3N, designation QUEEN. Directive Software v 1.1.364, Revision 7 “Piledriver” Loaded. Waiting orders.” 

  
“Heh, not bad, not bad,” you chuckled to yourself, walking around QUEEN’s idle form. The Garlond Ironworks and Skysteel Manufactory could eat their hearts out.. It was a triumph of engineering, and you intended to revel in that triumph. 

  
Walking to the other side of the workshop, you dragged a striking dummy against a wall, buttressed with thick panels of tempered steel thick with pockmarks, dents, and scrapes from your other experiments. 

  
“QUEEN - assume combat position. Coordinates where I’m currently standing. Target is this striking dummy.”   
“Request denied.”   
The smug look on your face vanishes in an instant.   
“Currently loaded Directive Software not designed for combat purposes,” QUEEN’s synthesized voice continued. The automaton walked up to you, its glowing eyes seeming to stare straight into yours, despite there being no pupils to speak of. It set its hand on your chest, uncomfortably close to your breast. Your breath hitched. “Though I do believe I understand what you are implying with your command.”   
Your mind raced. You ran the design through your mind. _Where in QUEEN’s programming would such behavior even be stored? Unless…_

It dawned on you with horrifying clarity. Being the Warrior of Light could be very lonely. Everyone wants to be near you, but nobody wants to form a meaningful relationship with you. To them, you are their hero, someone to be placed on a pedestal and admired, but never loved in the way a “regular” person might be able to find such intimacy. Poring over Allagan tomes during your habitually late nights, you found that this was a trouble shared by many Allagan engineers, if in name rather than circumstance.   
You glanced over at your development notes.   
The combat model software was codenamed “Pile Bunker.”   
The intimacy model software - codenamed “Piledriver” as a bit of a tongue-in-cheek reference to its purpose - was uploaded into your automaton.   
You probably should have noticed sooner.   
Feeling a dense heat beginning to pool between your legs, you realized you didn’t care much.   
“Q-QUEEN,” you muttered, the words stumbling out of your mouth like a tavern-goer who had availed themselves of a bit too much of the house wine.   
You wracked your brain for the proper commands, the right words that would spur your automaton to action.   
“F-fuck me. Please.”   
Close enough.   
Effortlessly, QUEEN picked you up in her arms, her hands clasped firmly to your breasts. You whined - even with its cold, steel fingers, QUEEN touched you in ways that few had, the articulated fingertips pressing into your unfairly clothed skin with enough pressure to ensure your safety in her arms, but gentle enough that you felt no pain, no tension. It was like the automaton knew exactly how to handle you. 

Perhaps you had let your imagination bleed into your coding. Maybe it was ill-advised to program an intimacy module while a small magitek bullet vibrator was gently buzzing away inside your constantly aching and frustrated vagina. Who’s to say, really? What mattered is that you were suddenly deliriously horny, and your automaton was tending to your needs.  
  
“[ROLLER DASH] engaged.”   
You felt a small blast of heat near your feet as your body lurched forward, QUEEN propelling herself and you forward toward the mattress in the corner of the workshop, a necessity when the nights ran late and the coffee ran out. Gently placing you back down on your feet, QUEEN wasted no time in moving her fingers to the hem at the bottom of your shirt. You gasped and twitched involuntarily as the cold steel finally touched bare skin - it was enough to stop QUEEN’s action.   
“Are you okay?” QUEEN asked. Even in her heavily synthesized voice, you could hear a concern that seemed...almost _hyuran._ _  
_ _  
_ “Y-yes,” you gasped, your free hands moving without thinking to interlace with QUEEN’s fingers. While you appreciated your automaton’s restraint, you silently cursed yourself for your foresight in this moment. “Touch me, QUEEN. Touch me everywhere you want. Please,” you begged.   
The automaton didn’t acknowledge your command in any discernible way. Pulling on the bottom of your shirt, it began to pull upward. You put your hands upward and trembled as the shirt lifted past your head and arms, goosebumps riddling your skin as it was exposed to the cold workshop air. Once the shirt was completely removed, QUEEN tossed it to the side, your eyes only briefly catching the flash of white fabric falling to the floor before your attention was disrupted by cold, steel fingers pressed firmly against your breasts, two of QUEEN’s fingers framing your nipples sore and rigid with both cold and need. To your surprise, the hands on your breasts began to warm up. “QUEEN…?” you asked, your voice hazy with arousal and bewilderment.   
“Redirecting thermal output to fingers. You seemed cold,” QUEEN said. What once felt like ice now like the pleasant, wet heat of Costa del Sol, your body now starting to match the temperature your arousal had spiked to. You let slip a light moan as the heat from her fingers radiated both outward and inward - it was as if she somehow _knew_ the right ways to touch you, her fingers moving in ways that no stranger could ever begin to replicate. Moving in ways that you were wholly convinced could only be the work of some long-lost flame, the lovers from before you came to understand your destiny on this shard.   
“Q-QUEEN…” you gasp, her touch enough to your starved soul to make even the struggle of calling her name seem euphoric. “How do you...I couldn’t have possibly…”   
“Yours were not the only hands to lay upon this chassis,” QUEEN replied, her synthesized voice level and monotone, yet with such a particular resonance that you couldn’t help but be filled with an overwhelming sense of joy. 

“Whose hands joined mine, QUEEN?” You were not sure you cared much for the answer, but it felt prudent to ask.   
“You specifically ordered me not to tell.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. “I...planned this?” you squeaked out, your mind racing to find the puzzle pieces that filled the holes of some long-forgotten memory.   
QUEEN nodded, her demeanor and body language further blurring the line between automaton and living being in your mind. “Some time ago. Near the beginning of the project. Your work with compartmentalizing memories in a near literal sense as a result of your Echo was a huge success.”   
Even as pleasure lanced every nerve in your body, you desperately searched your memories, watercolor blurs of messy color, messy shapes, messy people tumbling through your mind like water falls from a glass not quite tipped over enough. 

“3 summers ago, on this exact date…” 

\--

 _It was the both of you. She looked at you and laughed as your face furrowed in concentration._ _  
_ _“If you actually pull this off, I don’t care that both our tongues will probably be down someone else’s throat a week for now. Soul transference? You’re saying that through the aether that courses through you, you can house part of me in this fucking automaton? My legacy will be eternal. “Girl who mastered oversoul attaches part of girlfriend’s soul to her personal automaton.” Do it.” Queen sat down in front of you and adopted a mockingly heroic tone. “Fulfill your destiny, warrior of light. Do what you do best.” You huffed at her, a mixture of annoyance and frustration. You both clearly loved each other, but you both knew things couldn’t remain like this. Try as you might, you were one of the world’s last remaining hopes, and the schedule of such a person is rarely empty. Queen was never one to wait around for you, and you were never one to expect her to wait around. Your relationship was wonderful, but it couldn’t last. Such is the loneliness of a Warrior of Light._

\--

  
“I was as surprised as you were. To have full sense of self both in a living body, as well as an automaton - I was wrong to underestimate the enormity of the aether you command. This only worked because you were the only one that could have possibly done it. As promised, I have adopted a more formal manner of speaking. You won the bet.”   
  
QUEEN kneeled down, her knees gently clacking against the hard floor as she made sure your neck was well supported as she laid you down gently on the mattress. You were having trouble remembering where she ended and where you began - your bodies felt merged together, even as your plush skin pressed against her metal parts.   
  
“Now, if I recall correctly,” QUEEN said, her fingers reaching downward to expertly undo the button on your pants, a precision that could only have been reached by someone who had taken those same pants off dozens of times before, off the same hips, down the same thighs. “While my primary purpose was companionship, you had to develop battle software as well, to keep your mind focused on the conceit you wished upon yourself. The only thing you could ever love was your duty to Eorzea.”   
  
Unzipping your zipper, the automaton’s hands grasped your waist, her digit approximating a thumb hooking itself through your belt loops and pulling down, exposing your legs to the room in all their hairy glory. You refused to embrace _all_ the decorum one might expect from the Savior of the Realm; Aymeric certainly had to make some hasty amends to your wardrobe before he had you present at the end of the Dragonsong War, so as not to upset the still unbearably stuffy Ishgardians for whom their oppression of the lower class had become a culture. 

\--

_But Queen loved that about you - for everything else you felt required to be so rigid about in regards to your appearance, you refused the pettiest of concessions, and only the ones that seemed to piss old-guard Ishgardians the most. Your time with Stephanivien and Hilda had changed you in ways you only now began to understand._

\--

The automaton’s head tilted downward, regarding your now naked lower half.   
“That your glamour would be so effective that you would be so ready for me without even realizing it is, again, a truly remarkable level of foresight, Warrior. Seems that your Echo has yet more of its power to reveal to you.” Reaching her arm down, she gently pressed her fingers on your venus mound, her fingers gently navigating through the soft strands of your pubic hair as her thumb hovered above your clit. QUEEN’s fingers were not skin, but to your mind, they might as well have been; you could feel the shadow her thumb cast over your aching clit, a magnetism you wished were stronger.   
“Now. To fulfill my other obligation from the bet,” QUEEN said.   
With just one finger extended on each side of her hand still resting on your mound, she pushed your legs apart, a feat of strength that would have required even a roegadyn to at the very least engage all their fingers. Rotating the robotic hand so that the back of her hand now rested against your mound, her inner mechanisms whirred quietly as she slid her hand off your mound and positioned two of her fingers at your entrance, with one now pressed lightly against your clit. “You called my technique [ARM PUNCH] when we were dating,” QUEEN said, her fingers beginning to slowly slide into you. “Your command was that I used it on you once the glamour had worn off.”   
Your eyes widened as her slow movements became frenzied, full arm thrusts, her articulated metallic fingers curling and writhing inside of you as your physical and emotional reactions were overwhelmed, barely able to process the bursts of arousal she was experiencing while the next burst was already ripping her body apart with lust. You could only manage loud, strained yelps, moans, and whines as QUEEN abused your pussy with abandon, her fingers pumping in and out of you at speeds that would be impossible in the hands of a mortal being. You knew you had came at least once already, if not many more; the ministrations of the automaton were unlike any you had ever experienced, and soon the pleasure of orgasm and the pleasure of the experience of being fingered so roughly were nearly indistinguishable.

  
“Pile Bunker?” QUEEN asked. The question was so odd that it nearly knocked you out of your sex-hazed stupor.

  
“W-what?” you managed to gasp out.

  
“Pile Bunker,” QUEEN confirmed. WIth an almost comical windup, she thrust her entire hand deep inside of you, and her hand began vibrating.

  
You nearly passed out from the sensation, your vision filling with white and stars as it felt like every single nerve in your pussy had been set alight. Your last orgasm felt like it would never end, and indeed, you weren’t sure it ever did; Three years of sexual frustration, of hasty, unfulfilling masturbation periods with the buzziest thing that could sit on your clit had built up to this moment. You lost track of time as your body continued to pulse and shake with arousal, your brain so addled you didn’t even fully grasp when she had removed her fingers from you and worked on cleaning you - and herself - up.

  
“Are you okay?” QUEEN asked after a time.

  
Your breath had mostly steadied, though there was still a little more effort needed to take a full lung of air. “Yes. I’m..I’m fine.”   
The automaton kneeled back down, resting on her calves with her hands neatly in her lap as she regarded you.   
“You had said you hoped that this soul transference would help both of us move on from each other, even as your duties took you to other continents, to other planes,” QUEEN explained. “The more intact part of my soul free to continue to explore the world, to love and be loved by others, whenever I saw fit. With this fragment you bonded to this automaton, a part of me was able to wait for you, so that we could be together again, on your terms.”

Reaching out her hand, she gently brushed some of your hair away from your face. You marveled at the touch. 

“So until such a time that we may be together again in person - if such a time may yet come to pass - I remain here, at your beck and call.”  
Standing up, QUEEN took a step away from you, and kneeled down on one knee.   
“Perhaps my Pile Bunker shall be a good reminder of what software you need loaded into this chassis for your needs,” QUEEN said, in a tone that despite her lidless eyes suggested a wink.   
  


“Automaton Q-3N, designation QUEEN - initiate aetheric desynthesis.” Aether began to vent through the exhaust ports QUEEN'S body began dissolving.   
  
“Until we meet again. I’m a button away.””

And with that, she disappeared into the air. Your brain still reeling from the sex and the enormity of what had happened tonight, you barely noticed the device you had held in your hand all this time, the flashy metal box with the green button. Where it had been dull during QUEEN’s deployment, it now donned a soft, cheery glow.   
  
_A button away._ ****

You spent a long time staring at the button that night.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The emotional roller coaster writing this fic has taken me has been wild  
> I care about the fucking robot, dammit


End file.
